


Just Another Day at Work

by KaeStela



Category: Starbound (Video Game)
Genre: Apex (Starbound), Miniknog (Starbound), Self-indulgent bit of backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaeStela/pseuds/KaeStela
Summary: Just another day at work for Miniknog soldier Yefim...Set nine years before As Long as We Remember, contains spoilers up to chapter 42 of that work.





	Just Another Day at Work

The raid progressed smoothly. Their informant’s intel was right on the mark, not a single corridor or secret room unaccounted for. Even the rebels themselves matched, their faces, their numbers, their names. Yefim kept a tally in his head as each one was confirmed killed or captured.

“Not much good, are they, when it’s them getting surprised?” he asked, tightening the plastic ties around an unconscious captive’s wrists.

“You would think they might fit their reputation,” Savas agreed. He paused, listening to a private order on his comms. “Leave off that and come with me, ginger. Someone else will pick up. They’re not going anywhere.”

Yefim obeyed. He followed the silver Apex in unquestioning silence as they turned down a half-hidden corridor. This was how it always went: Savas leading, Yefim following behind. Savas hadn’t led him wrong yet.

Most of the fighting was over now, or had moved further in. It was almost too quiet. Savas kept stopping, opening doors, looking behind crates and under debris. Yefim had almost worked up the courage to bend the rules a bit and ask him what he was looking for when Savas held up a hand, a silent command to stop.

“Draw your gun,” he ordered, nudging the door open.

Furniture was scattered across the otherwise pristine floor, like someone had flung it out of the way. A whiteboard occupied the far wall, red ink hastily erased. In the middle of the floor lay a golden-furred Apex. He was bound, gagged, and terrified, his wrists zip-tied behind his back. A note was pinned to his shirt, bearing the angry red scrawl, ‘ _ Devil take His own.’ _ A little moan of fear escaped the rag between the man’s teeth as he caught sight of the Miniknog soldiers.

Savas glared scornfully down at him. “Knock him out.”

“Is he all we came here for?” Yefim asked, almost disappointed, as he dragged the now-unconscious man out of the room.

“No.” Savas crossed the room and heaved an upended table out of the way. “She is.”

Yefim stared at the body on the floor. It was a young woman, black-furred, lying far too still. Yefim knew death when he saw it. One hand rested almost casually on her stomach, the other lying beside her face as if she’d tried to stop her final fall. The deep bruises along her throat, just visible under her dark fur, left little doubt to how she’d died. Yefim felt his lip curl and wished he’d hit the man harder. “If this is how the rebels deal with each other,” he snarled, “we may as well leave them to kill themselves. Animals. …What are you doing?”

Savas had grabbed the dead woman’s shoulders and pulled her clear of the rubble, propping her up against the wall. Her head lolled to one side, blood trickling from her nose and staining her white tank top. Another drop welled up under her left eyelid as Yefim watched and traced a slow crimson tear down her cheek.

“Bleeding, not a good sign,” Savas muttered. He pulled out a tiny vial and syringe from a hidden pocket. “How long ago?”

“What? How should I—”

“Not you. Shut up.” The silver Apex tilted his head to one side, listening again. “Thirty minutes? Two milliliters, no more. Got it.”

Yefim saw him very carefully fill the syringe to 2.7mL. “Savas,” he hissed, “what do we want with yet another dead rebel? There are dozens of them out there.”

Savas smiled darkly, shaking his head. He set down the needle for a moment and pulled out a scanner bar, running it along the young woman’s neck. It lit up. “She’s no rebel,” he said as it began to display name and rank. “She’s one of ours. And she will not be ‘dead’ for much longer.”

Yefim’s eyes went wide as he caught what Savas was saying.  _ Not dead? _

Savas stuck the syringe in her arm and emptied its contents into her veins. Seconds passed. Just as he cursed and went to fill another dose, the woman stirred. She drew in a sharp breath, eyelids jittering like a dreamer coming out of a deep sleep. Then she coughed, inhaled again, and opened her eyes. Her lips moved as she tried to speak, but it came out as a strangled rasp. She touched her throat, swallowed hard. Her dark, dazed eyes fixed on his face. “Who… Sa-vas…?”

Yefim felt his mouth open in surprise. He’d heard rumors, of course, of Miniknog Agents who could fool the rebels into believing they were one of them. He’d also heard rumors that some of them carried drugs to induce deathlike comas in the victim. They were supposed to be for collecting and interrogating high-ranked rebels. He’d never heard of an Agent using those drugs on herself.

“Welcome back, Agent Saimiri,” Savas told her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where—” The woman broke off, eyes going wide. She folded sideways, retching, one hand clutching at her chest. Blackened bile splashed off the metal floor.

Yefim dropped to his knees, automatically moving to support her. He almost recoiled; she was cold, too cold. Her eyes flickered toward his face and he caught an instant of gratitude before she doubled over again.

“It is not easy, coming back to life,” Savas said coldly. His face showed no emotion, but it was easy to hear the sneer in his voice.

“Hgk… bast-ard…” Saimiri’s voice was thick with pain. She shuddered and vomited again. The sharp odor of blood joined the sour-sweet mix of bile and whatever rebel swill she’d eaten last.

“What did you do?” Yefim hissed, fear curdling in his gut at the same time realization hit. This was their informant, their insider. They’d been sent to retrieve her. If she died here, they would be held responsible. An Agent’s life was worth a lot more than his own.

“Overdose,” Saimiri rasped. “He… a-ahh…” The words melted into a low howl of pain. Her body convulsed, almost jerking out of Yefim’s grip. Nothing but blood came up this time. She hung limp in his grasp, gasping.

Yefim cursed, supporting her with one arm as he rummaged for his red stimpack with the other.

“Don’t,” Savas warned, “unless you really do want to kill her. Stimpacks react badly to the stuff that put her under.”

“She is going to die anyway if we do nothing!” Yefim snapped.  _ This was deliberate. He  _ meant  _ to kill her. _

Savas snorted. “Don’t be stupid. Check her eyes, ginger. She is one of Elliott’s lab rats. A little overdose like this is not going to kill one of  _ them _ . She’ll be fine.” The amusement vanished, his face cold again. “Learn from this, Yefim. Saimiri’s just getting a dose of what happens when she steps out of line.”

Saimiri hissed, breath choking its way through her lungs. “D-damn you,” she coughed. “I… I obeyed.” Her face was ashen, but her grip was surprisingly strong as she tried to use Yefim’s shoulder to pull herself upright. She didn’t get far past kneeling before her legs gave out.

It would have ended badly if Yefim hadn’t caught her. Saimiri leaned heavily on him, shaking with the effort of staying up. Yefim could see the pain and wounded pride in her dark eyes, but she didn’t object when he eased her back down. That he could tell what she was feeling at all spoke volumes. Agents, especially infiltrators, were trained to keep their emotions buried, to mask any pain they felt. He silently passed her a bottle of water. She nodded her thanks and tried to raise it to her lips. Her hands trembled so much that Yefim had to reach out and steady her before she could drink.

Yefim noticed Savas smirking and looked away, surprised at the revulsion that surged at the sight of his friend’s face.

Savas ignored him and touched the microphone on his helmet, contacting whoever had redirected him in the first place. “Savas reporting in. Yefim is with me. We have located Agent Saimiri. Returning to base.”  Yefim noticed he said nothing about the punishment he’d inflicted.

The silver Apex turned back to them, cold scorn and amusement both easily visible as he took in the tiny hints of concern in Yefim’s face and the barely-suppressed agony in Saimiri’s, blood dripping from the corners of her eyes now as well as her lips. “Clearly Agent Saimiri is too weak to walk on her own, my friend,” he said calmly. “You will have to carry her.”

_ Manual labor. That’s why he brought me _ , Yefim realized, scooping her up. She didn’t react. He wasn’t sure she was even conscious anymore.

-

The journey back to the base was silent, beyond the rare shallow gasp or painful cough from the young woman in Yefim’s arms, almost too quiet for him to hear. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and weak, as she leaned into what little warmth she could get from him. Her shivering was almost as violent now as the vomiting had been, in spite of the blanket he’d wrapped around her bare shoulders.  _ Blood loss. Dehydration. Shock.  _ He moved faster.

Saimiri’s hand closed around his wrist as they reached the outskirts of the base. At first, Yefim thought it was just another muscle spasm, but when he looked down she was staring up at him, her eerily dark eyes glassy but focused. “Put me down,” she whispered, her voice cracked and hoarse. “Let me walk.”

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“I will.”

It took her two tries and his shoulder as leverage again before Saimiri managed to keep herself upright, but she did not complain or stumble when Yefim stepped away.

“We do not have time to indulge your pride, Agent Saimiri,” Savas sneered.

“You... you have no room to talk,” she rasped, pausing to spit blood into the snow. “I’m doing this for your sake. Bastard.”

Though Savas snorted, unimpressed, Yefim realized she was right. It would look terrible for them, as her collectors, if she was so injured she wasn’t able to walk into base on her own. He handed her the water bottle again, refusing to take it back until she drank what was left. She nodded, then surprised him with a small smile.

“You, at least, have sense,” she said, her voice still husky, but stronger than before.

Saimiri surprised him again when she kept pace with them as Savas led the way to the medical quarters. If it weren’t for his own memories and the stiff set of her jaw, he might have thought her perfectly healthy. Savas caught him glancing over at her. “I told you,” the silver Apex muttered. “Lab rat.”

The young woman maintained her stoic silence.

She shed the blanket as Yefim keyed in the password to open the medbay doors. Three Apex in long white coats were waiting for them, the scientist Iva and two unfamiliar medical technicians. “Welcome back,” Iva said. Then she looked up from her clipboard, just in time to see Saimiri sway on her feet. Yefim touched her shoulder, steadying her, as the two medics hurried forward.

Saimiri allowed herself to be led over to an examination table, sinking almost gratefully onto its hard, sterile surface. One of the medics helped her lie down as Iva followed them over, fingertips tapping almost nervously on her clipboard. “Personal status report, Agent Saimiri. You used the Sleeper on yourself. What else should we know?” she asked.

Saimiri took a breath, steadying herself. “Reporting minor malnourishment and tissue damage to neck, concentrated at windpipe,” she said, touching her throat. The long silence had done nothing to improve her voice, and her bruises looked even darker under the bright medbay lights. “Estimated moderate to severe.”

“The rebels tried to strangle you?” Iva asked sharply, looking up from her notes.

“My focus did,” she replied. She inhaled slowly, trying to hide the faint rattle in her breath. “I marked him out. Others overheard, he went after me. Went under before I saw the rest.”

Iva nodded, scribbling furiously. “Well done. We’ll send someone to collect him later. He could be useful. But what about this?” she asked, indicating the blood on her face and shirt, the half-dried, half-frozen bile on her pants.

“I was under too long,” Saimiri said.

A medic touched her side and she flinched, hissing with sudden pain. Her hand tensed sharply, bones standing out under the skin, as she resisted the impulse to swat him away. The medic either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he pulled Saimiri’s shirt up to just below her breasts, exposing a mottled purple discoloration along her ribs. “Internal bleeding,” the medic muttered, “signs of muscle damage, possibly bone. Moderate dehydration. Post-slumber.” He was silent for a moment as he touched Saimiri’s face, the side of her neck. “Tremors, irregular breathing,” he added eventually, concern and suspicion creeping into his voice.

Iva cursed, adding another note. “I don’t suppose you know what did that?” she asked.

Saimiri hesitated. Her gaze touched Savas and flashed with an instant of hate. Then Yefim saw her eyes flick toward him, saw the indecision.  _ She owes me,  _ he realized. If she accused Savas, it would implicate Yefim too.  _ Is she willing to cover for me?  _ It went against everything they’d both been conditioned for, concealing the truth from her handler. He wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or pleased.

“Permission to speak in her place, ma’am? Agent Saimiri is exhausted,” Yefim said, looking at Iva. Savas twitched, then shot him a confused look.

“Unusual, but granted,” Iva said, turning to face him. “Name?”

“Yefim Eddac. I accuse Agent Savas of intentional disobedience to a superior and of causing deliberate injury to a fellow officer.” Yefim felt the sudden fury in Savas’s eyes and refused to meet his now-former ally’s gaze. He knew there was no backing down now, but he could not forget the twisted glee with which the silver Apex had watched Saimiri suffer. Hurting the rebel scum was one thing, but this woman was one of their allies. It went against everything, even more than Saimiri considering shielding him with her silence.

Iva looked between the two of them, sudden interest brightening her stare. “Details, Yefim.”

“I was present with Agent Savas when we discovered Agent Saimiri,” Yefim said. “I saw him fill the syringe too far after repeating your commands not to overdose above two milliliters. My visor feed will confirm my words.”

The medic beside Saimiri froze, his face turning pale. “What was the dosage?” he asked.

Yefim heard a faint angry hiss from Savas, but that bridge was burned. “Two milliliters and seven tenths.”

The medic put a hand over his mouth, then gestured to his assistant, who almost sprinted for the tall vial cabinet. “Scientist Iva, I request a halt in the reports,” he said, his voice a nervous staccato as he collected a sterile needle and three small bottles from the nearest shelf. “If Agent Saimiri has been overdosed that badly, she needs immediate treatment if we hope to reverse the damage.”

“Yes. Agent Savas, return to your quarters and do not leave them,” Iva ordered. “Yefim, step outside with me. You can finish your report there.”

Yefim bowed slightly and stepped aside to let Savas and Iva pass. He didn’t want to turn his back on Savas right now. He glanced back as he reached the door. Saimiri was watching him. She caught his gaze and inclined her head slightly. Yefim returned the gesture. A nod of thanks.

-

When Yefim indulged his curiosity and visited the next morning, the medic told him only that Saimiri was out of danger, and that she needed rest. He could just see her over the medic’s shoulder, sleeping, illuminated only by the diagnostic screens and their indecipherable readouts.

-

He did not see her again until nearly a week had passed since the raid, when the cleanup was nearly complete. A few soldiers would stay behind to make sure the rebels didn’t move back in, Yefim among them, but the majority of the base would be converted for research, and the higher-ranked officers would be moved to where they’d be more useful.

Yefim had gotten up early to visit one of the study rooms. “Study” was a bit misleading. They offered access to Miniknog-approved learning materials, but the furniture was easily moved in case the occupants wanted to study something of a more violent nature. He’d used them for sparring matches with Savas, before Savas’s crime shattered that allegiance.

_ It was his own fault,  _ Yefim thought, unrepentant, as he unlocked the door.  _ He disobeyed a superior, endangered a comrade.  _ He hadn’t seen Savas since the scientist sent him out. Rumor had it he’d been assigned for overdue reconditioning.

He stopped as the door slid open. The room was in sparring configuration, several practice dummies in various stages of disrepair scattered around the floor. Someone was already inside.

The woman turned toward him as she heard the door open. “It’s been a while,” she said. She lowered her wooden training spear and nodded to him, bowing politely.

“Agent Saimiri.” Yefim returned the gesture. “You are looking well.”

The woman laughed, a sharp and bitter sound. “Just Nyota here. Honesty is more valuable than formalities, comrade,” she said, indicating in one sweeping gesture her disheveled hair, the yellowed bruises along her throat, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her clothes hung loose on her frame that spoke volumes about the ‘minor malnourishment’ she’d mentioned. “But I have you to thank that it was not worse. …I do not think I know your name.”

“I am Yefim Eddac. You look better than I last saw you,” he amended, and saw her mouth twitch into a wry smile.

“Yes. I heal quickly. Iva told me you visited. She was wondering if you had an interest, but then you did not come back,” Nyota said. There was a question in her face, but it did not reach her voice.

Yefim was quiet for a moment. He had intended to reprimand her at first, for hesitating, for considering hiding the truth from Iva, but her thanks had caught him off guard. Instead, he said, “You heal very quickly. Savas referred to you as ‘lab rat.’”

If he hadn’t been watching for it, he would have missed how her shoulders tensed, how the faint interest in her eyes went blank. “Savas has no doubt referred to me as many things,” she said. Evading, giving him a chance to back out.

“My clearance is high enough for answers,” Yefim told her. “I was promoted.” Iva had been surprisingly keen to see him rewarded after he completed his report.

“Congratulations.” There was an unexpected bite to her words, flat and dry. After a few moments, she said, “I am not a mutant.”

“I did not suggest that.”

“Questions are dangerous.”

“I did not ask any.”

Nyota cursed, as short and sharp as her laugh. “I do not think you would know what you are asking.” She glanced down at her right hand, where the bones still stood out, her nails still cracked and broken. “You did me a favor,” she said, her voice gentler, but no longer welcoming, as she turned away from him. “If you had not been there, Savas would have let me die, and have claimed the rebels killed me before he got there. You spoke for me. Ask.”

“What did Savas mean?” Yefim saw her close her eyes, and realized he’d asked both the right question and the wrong one.

“It means I am ‘not normal,’” Nyota said eventually, opening her too-dark eyes again. “My previous handler had a mind more geared toward science than regulations. You have heard of the scientist Elliott?”

Yefim nodded. Elliott was well-known in certain circles for his unorthodox approach. Most Miniknog scientists sought to reverse the physical effects of the Vestigi-Evo Process. Elliott had said that was impossible and instead started researching ways to improve the mental side. “You say previous.”

“He did not get proper permissions to use an Agent,” Nyota said. “He was reprimanded, and I was passed to Iva.” She glanced over at Yefim, perhaps trying to read his face. “The experiment was successful. My survival proves it.”

“But what does it do?” Yefim forgot himself for a moment as the second question slipped out.

Nyota’s mouth curved into a small smile. “It made me useful again. That is all.” She politely excused herself, citing an examination with the medical team.

He never saw her again.


End file.
